


Sharpe's Terror

by InkSiren



Series: Sharpe's Fanfic [10]
Category: Sharpe (TV), Sharpe - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Team as Family, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28185300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkSiren/pseuds/InkSiren
Summary: Usually, it's Patrick in this horrible situation of not knowing if his best friend is alive or not. This time Richard gets a taste.Tag for the Sharpe's Challenge movie.
Series: Sharpe's Fanfic [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034673
Kudos: 4





	Sharpe's Terror

Richard still remembers fearing that he might be a coward. The almost funny thing is that was something he needn’t have worried about at all. Far from cowardice, he seemed to possess an almost demonic fighting instinct that flared up when he was in the heat of things and as a result he wouldn’t truly say he’d experienced terror until the day he and Patrick decided they had nothing to do but blow a massive trap of powder before the enemy could. 

He’d been afraid, yes. He’d been furious and he’d been worried for his men, but terror? 

It wasn’t the mission that scared him, or being behind enemy lines, or even the actual explosion itself. It is the coughing after, waving dust out of his face and wincing at the ringing in his ears as he casts around for Patrick and realizes the sergeant isn’t moving. 

Everyone else is gone. Everyone. Patrick cannot be gone too. Not him. If Patrick is gone Richard knows a piece of him will be gone too, and he’ll return to Lucille with a great chunk torn from his soul. 

“Pat?” Richard feels himself ask, though he cannot hear it. His tongue sticks with dust and his heart is shaking its way all the way to the tips of his trembling fingers. 

“Patrick,” he pleads, shuffling closer, grabbing onto Patrick’s coat and fumbling up to frame his face, turning his head so he can see a face dusty and far too slack for a man who has a beam across his legs. 

As he cradles Patrick’s head, and searches his face for some kind of life, Richard realizes he is wrong about never having been terrified. He’d dreamed of seeing this not so long before, of causing it himself when he had to raise a gun to the man who’d been his brother for years, and he’d felt terror coil icy and poisonous around his ribs like the roots of some deadly ivy. 

Those roots flared with a bitter frost and he feels his own warmth sucked out of him as he fumbles with Patrick’s collar to try and find the pulse. 

His fingers are trembling too much, and his ears are still clubbed with silence. He knows if he searches for a heartbeat, he won’t be able to find one. 

“Patrick, please,” he manages to hear himself whimper, and he curls forward, his forehead resting on Patrick’s sternum. The great body is still, and Richard doesn’t think he has the strength to try and find a pulse anywhere else. He’s too afraid he will not find one, and it’s easier to bury his fingers in the lingering warmth under Patrick’s collar and pray. 

“Please God, I know you’ve no reason to listen to me,” he finds himself breathing. “But Patrick’s held you in high esteem for this long, and I know Ramona and his son need him back home. Please don’t take him just yet.”  
At least this time, God hears him and Patrick finally stirs. Richard’s head pops up so fast he feels a stab of pain behind his eyes, but he doesn’t care.

“Harper, come on Pat, can you hear me?” he asks, tapping Patrick’s face and gripping his jacket hard. “Come on man, open your eyes.”

Finally, he does, and Richard feels the terror begin to thaw.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey if we're gonna switch things up and catch Patrick in an explosion I need some follow up on that.


End file.
